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Jan. 2nd, 2015

Do you ever wonder?

It's so quiet...

I hear thunder, my light background music, the typing of my fingers, my husband snoring in the other room, the pitter patter of kitty toes on wood flooring, and raindrops hitting the roof.

I'm drinking ice cold water with lemon. A whole lemon.

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For the past few weeks, I've been thinking about life. I'm 33 and not in the best of health. I try to change it, but I lose my way somehow. I'll get there, I know. So, I try not to worry about that right now. I want to experience life, though.

I want to go out every single day. My mind cries out for amusement of some sort. My mind and body are in Sacramento... my heart in West Monroe with my family. But, I want to be somewhere else... where I can go to the Y and swim, go to see bands play live every weekend if I want, eat Korean food... or Ethiopian, or TRUE Mexican... or anything I want. I want to be able to go down to the store and buy fresh cut lambchops or a whole squid if I want.

I want to be somewhere to live. I don't want to stay here and feel like I just sat through my life. People may be comfortable doing that, but I feel like a lot of my problem with my depression and need to stay in the bed is feeling like I'm wasting away my life in a town I hate. I love my family. I can come see my family whenever I want to see them. But, I want to LIVE. I want to be FREE of this town. I never planned to stay here forever. I've always wanted to be in a bigger city with more things to do, bigger things to see, comedy clubs, stores besides Catherine's, etc.

I guess what I'm saying is... I love you, but I want to leave, West Monroe. I want to leave you behind with a U-Haul and a list of things to do.

My tears are in West Monroe. My boredom is in West Monroe. My depression is in West Monroe. The doctors here are awful. There is no choice in anything. There is nothing to do. I want out. I want out. I can feel myself clawing out of my West Monroe skin and screaming, "SACRAMENTO, WAIT FOR ME!!!!".

Historic_district,_West_Monroe,_LA_IMG_0114     Downtown Monroe 2

I didn't fall in love with Sacramento the first time I saw it. Yes, I said I wanted to move there, but I said I wanted to move everywhere I went at that time, because I just wanted OUT of this town to a place that had LIFE. But, by the fourth or so time I went to Sacramento and started seeing the options in doctors, hospitals, care, exercise, movies, food, freshness, excitement, night life, grocery stores, and even parks... I got excited. I can join the local geocaching club and take Bev geocaching with me! I can join the Y and swim daily if I want. I can buy fresh squid and cook it. I can do anything I want. I would soak it up like a sponge. I would revel in the wonderful feeling of having more than one theatre, more than one sushi joint, and being able to see real Broadway shows when they came to town.

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I don't want to be on the hospital bed at the end of my life... in Glenwood and saying, "I never did the things I wanted". I don't want to settle for less for myself. I want to LIVE. I want to be ME.

I'm so tired of crying and sleeping.

Aug. 30th, 2013

A poem to my Mom...

I want you to know this,
That you carried me through hell.
The touch of a gentle hand,
When I wasn’t feeling so well.

You put up with me
Becoming a complete shut in.
You supported my breakout
And helped me become human again.

Your love means the world to me.
And, I see what you meant
When you said that I would look back
And, I would regret my dissent.

As my Mom, you had wonderful advice about life.
Things you learned on your own.
Things you learned from your pain.
Things you learned by enduring so much strife.

You wanted your baby to be happy.
You wanted to save her from the pain.
You wanted to share how you learned so much.
You wanted her to be completely sane.

So, while I’m not completely on my rocker,
And, sometimes I feel like I’ve gone right off the end…
I want you to know that you did a wonderful job
Of teaching me that you will always be my best friend.

I love you more than I can express.
I listen to your words from the past still
And they help me progress;
They give me the will.

I still go through hell.
I think it’s called living.
But, it feels wonderful knowing I have a Mom
Who is so forgiving.

I love you.

Aug. 27th, 2013

He doesn't know me. I don't know him. Maybe we should introduce ourselves to each other sometime?

If they don't put me away
Well, it'll be a miracle.

I believe I'm missin' out.
That everything good is happening somewhere else.
But, with nobody in your bed,
The night's hard to get through.

And I will die all alone.
And, when i arrive... I won't know anyone.

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again.
So what did you do those three days you were dead?

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die.
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after.
Do I get the gold chariot?
Do I float through the ceiling?

Do I divide and fall apart?
Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark.

I know you're coming for people like me,
But we all got wood and nails
And we turn out hate in factories.
We all got wood and nails.
And, we sleep inside of this machine.

Aug. 24th, 2013

I'm already gone.

Clap hands, daddy comes
With a pocket full of plums
Don't cry
Most days I'm okay, come steal my heart

How I wish everything was simple
How I wish everything didn't end in lies
How I wish I could just keep turning back time

How I wish I could be more like me
When I didn't have to worry about myself
How I wish I could just keep turning back time

Forgive me if I cannot try any harder
You make it seem like everything I do
Means nothing at all
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter
Don't cry

Clap hands, daddy comes
With a pocket full of plums
Don't cry
Flashback, twisted up
I'm so close to giving up
Don't cry

Right now I am complicated
Right now I am giving this heart away
How I wish I could just keep turning back time

Right now I'm the walking wounded
Mind set on getting out alive
How I wish I could just keep turning back time

Forgive me if I cannot try any harder
You make it seem like everything I do
Means nothing at all
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter
Don't cry

Clap hands, daddy comes
With a pocket full of plums
Don't cry
Flashback, twisted up
I'm so close to giving up
Don't cry

I should just let go
I should just let go

Forgive me if I cannot try any harder
You make it seem like everything I do
Means nothing at all
As complications go, this can't get any sweeter
Don't cry

Clap hands, daddy comes
With a pocket full of plums
Don't cry
Flashback, twisted up
I'm so close to giving up
Don't cry

I've dealt with initial shock...

I've dealt with this initial shock of my grandfather passing away. What I've found is even harder... is daily life without him. I didn't see him everyday. Heck, life got so busy when I got married that I'd sometimes see him maybe 4 times a year at most. BUT, it's been weird to call and never hear him on the phone. It's felt strange to go to the house and know he's there in that urn. I like knowing he's there. But, I miss his jokes. I feel so lost sometimes.

I'm trying to work on my weight, but it's hard. My portion sizes are getting better, but I'm not able to stay away from the sweets as well as I should. I know my doctor says to eat everything I want and not to tell myself what I can and cannot have. But, it's hard when you walk in the store to not buy a box of macaroni and cheese instead of fresh fish and vegetables. It's so much easier... one pot, one spoon, one bowl. As compared to a pan, a pot, a plate, a fork, and a baking pan.

Every morning I drive by the donut shop,
Yet I don’t stop.
That’s the hardest part of the day for me.
Fighting off the cravings, and they make me angry.

My entire life has revolved around food.
Eating to better my mood,
Eating to fight the panic,
Eating to keep myself from becoming manic.

It’s insanity the extent to which food can take over your life.
It’s supposed to be sustenance and not the cause of so much strife.
Yet I find myself giving in to what I crave
Just to keep myself in a normal brain wave.

Rotund, round, fat, corpulent, thick, obese.
So many things you can say to disturb my peace.
I joke and laugh to keep from crying,
While you pretend you are perfect, just keep denying.

I’m not sure what else to say except…
There are feelings involved here.
Or did you forget?

 I believe I will have some beef and broccoli from the Chinese shop today. Sounds healthy, right? Meh, I'll never be skinny. I should just give up.

Jul. 27th, 2013

And, I kept waiting...

I was at my Grandmama's house today, keeping her company. My husband and I brought over some groceries, beef stew, and generally just came by to keep her from feeling lonely.

It was really hard. I kept waiting for Poppa to walk through the door with Hebert on a leash... or to walk in from getting the mail. I kept thinking he was going to come back from his bedroom in the back and say "Why, hello Kristen!" and then sit down to talk about things on TV.

I keep thinking about him. I hear his voice. RIght now, I need to eat. I feel so nauseated, though. I can't stop thinking about how much I miss him. How much I want one more hug. I want one more kiss on the cheek. I want to joke with him more.

My poor Mom. She's so heartbroken. She can't eat. She can't sleep. She's looking so fragile. I just want to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the pain, but I can't. All those years she kept me from being hurt, and I can't do anything for her. I want to help so badly. I want everyone's pain to go away... even if it means taking it all on myself. I feel like I could do it if I knew it was to keep anyone else from hurting.

But, when it's just me... I'm not sure if I can make it.

How long does it hurt?

Why did it have to be him?

My heart hurts.

Jul. 24th, 2013

Poppa's obituary

John Peel Sr. (1934 - 2013)


  • "I love you Poppa. You live on in our hearts. I will never..."
    - Kristen Schilder

John David Peel, Sr. USAF Ret.

Funeral services for Mr. John David Peel, Sr. USAF Retired, age 78, of Quitman, LA will be held 2:00 PM Thursday July 25, 2013 at Kilpatrick Funeral Home in Ruston, LA.

Mr. Peel was born November 14, 1934 and passed away July 22, 2013.

He is preceded in death by his brothers: Murray Peel, Floyd Peel, and Alton Peel; sisters: Jean Hodges and Laverne Edminston.

Mr. Peel is survived by his wife: Myrtis Sisemore Peel of Quitman, LA; daughter: Denise Lowe and husband Gene of West Monroe, LA; son: John David Peel, Jr of Houston, TX; grandchildren: Kristen Schilder and husband Baron, Matthew Lowe and wife Chelsea; sister: Carolyn Mazie of Bay City, TX; sisters-in-law: Vivian Peel and Arlette Peel both of Ruston. Visitation will be held from 1:00 PM to 2:00 PM Wednesday at Kilpatrick Funeral Home in Ruston.

Online condolences may be sent to the family at www.kilpatrickfuneralhomes.com

Kilpatrick Funeral Home

Ruston, LA


Jul. 23rd, 2013

My Poppa...

My Grandfather, Poppa, the man who always sang to his dogs, took me to the "Land Before Time", loved me unconditionally, took me to the store when I had pink hair and wore the most horrible teenage angst filled clothes ever... he passed away yesterday morning. Yes, his health was relatively poor, but we didn't expect it. It was sudden. It was horrible. It was heart wrenching.

My poor mother could do nothing but cry and stare into space. She tried to be strong, she tried to be there for her mom, and she did as good a job as she could. But, I only got around 20 minutes to really hold her and let her cry... let go like I wanted to do. I then realized that as much as she loved me and needed me... she didn't. She needed my Dad and her Mom. Most of all, she needed HER Dad, and he wasn't there. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to go back in time and bring him back. I wanted to tell them all the wonderful things he always said about them to me when no one else was around. But, it never felt right.

Instead of feeling like a family surrounding each other in love, things felt like a discombobulated mess. And, I was left alone, trying to push myself in there somehow to say, "I know he's your Dad. I know he's your husband, but I loved this man just as much as you guys did. I loved this man so much that I dreamt about him all the time. I love this man so much that I'm hurting right now in ways I never thought possible. Do you realize I've never lost someone I love this much? Can someone love me? My someone is in another state and can't hug me. Someone hold me. Someone let me cry". I felt like that was selfish.

My sister in law, Chelsea... I am so grateful for her yesterday. She did the things I couldn't bring myself to do. She hugged me. She was the one there for me. My little brother... he held my hand while I cried. He checked on me everytime I went missing. He loves me so much. They were my rocks. I love them so fucking much that it hurts for me to think they're in pain, too.

I wanted to hug my Uncle and Mom and Grandmama all at once and cry with them. I wanted to tell them, "I love him, too. I love you, too. I wish I could take all your pain and put it on me so you can handle this pain free. I wish I could make every decision for you and make it just right so you don't have to do anything but mourn". But, I can't do that. I'm still a 10 year old in their eyes. And, honestly, as much as I am a part of the family... I was not a part of the family yesterday.

My Daddy... without him, I don't know what my Mom would do. I don't know what I would do. He stepped up and answered almost every phone call, spoke to the funeral home, put in his opinion without being pushy... he was amazing.

I just sat there like a bump on a log. And, everyone looked at me condescending when I tried to say something, as if to say, "What does it matter? You're just his granddaughter?". Except my Mom... she wouldn't look at me at all.

I haven't stopped crying since I left. When I drove home last night at around 10 PM, I screamed. I cried as loud as possible. I blared Ben Folds Five in the hopes that it would help drown out my pleas that felt stupid, but I needed to say it.

I yelled to Poppa. I asked him to please show me he's watching over us... please blow a gust of wind, please hold my hand, please whisper to me, please give me any sort of sign that you're there for me still. That you love me. I got nothing. It solidified that when we die... we're nothing but a memory. I need to keep his memories. I need to tell stories. I need to show everyone what a wonderful man he was to me. How much he loved me. I know he knew I loved him. But, that doesn't make me feel much better. I just want him back. I just want one last hug. I want one last ride in his truck to get an Icee. I want to get lost in Walmart again and come around the corner as a little girl and see him there with a smile asking me where I got off to and then grabbing my hand tight.

I know I have the memories, but I want to feel them again. I can think them all I want, but it's all overridden by pain.

And, last night, everyone had someone. Grandmama had Uncle John and William. Uncle John had William. Mom had Dad. Matthew had Chelsea. My husband is thousands of miles away. I came home to an empty house and spent my night wailing into the blanket that was Poppa's and still smells like him. I spent my night wondering what my place is in all this. I spent my night wondering if I should follow in his footsteps. So fucking selfish of me, but I've never felt pain like this. I can't stop crying. I can't stop shaking. I have no one to hold me. I just want to be held. All I can do is clean my house. I can't even look at my cats. They do no good right now. I don't want to eat anymore.

I took so much medicine last night. I know it was a huge handful of pills. I told my husband I wasn't sure what I took... I just knew I wanted to be numb. It didn't numb me. It just made me feel all high and made me worry more about things. I want you back, Poppa. I want you back for me, for Momma, for Grandmama, for Uncle John, for Matt and Chelsea, for me, for me.

I can't show the family my weakness. I can't cry in front of them, because I feel like it's selfish. He's their father and husband. I don't want to seem like a drama queen. So, I hold it all in and go outside, or to the bathroom. Most of it came out when I left. I want to crawl inside the casket with him and let them bury me. I can't take this. I try to crack jokes as a coping mechanism. I don't realize I'm doing it. Then I just look flippant.

I have no one. I'm so lonely.
Kristen and Poppa

Jul. 19th, 2013

Trampoline Elephant

I'm a psuedo photographer

It's a hobby...






My husband is flying away from me...

I'm thinking about my other half,
Off the ground, while I cry,
Altitude 38,000 feet,
All alone, there he flies.

Right now he's over New Mexico,
Land of Sante Fe, 7000 feet above sea level.
I'm still in Louisiana...
Awaiting news of his arrival.

All he has been to me is everything.
I cried so hard when he left that I got a migraine.
I admit I might be attached to him by a thick string.
But, when he's not here, I feel such pain.

My lover, my friend, my dream, my spouse.
Why am I so lost when you are not around?
What is it about me that needs to you so?
What chemical is it that makes my heart pound?

You'd think, "Eight years, that's enough to get over that".
But, we still give each other "the look"
You don't care that I got fat,
And we still live life like 2 silly characters in a comic book.

I know you have family and things that need to be done.
But, I miss you so much...
A replacement for you?
There is none.

Hurry home, my love.
I need my other half back.

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